Alea Iacta Est
by Predisposition
Summary: F!Hawke/Fenris. Mostly one-shots, some may cumulate into more meaningful multi-part short stories. Smut, violence, hilarity, and angst are sure to ensue.
1. Alpha

**_Ch.1_/**_ALPHA_

**Quick Desc: **Fenris decides to take what is his, and finds unexpected redemption in the process.

**Warning**: Contains sexual content some may find disturbing, and a very dominant / agressive take on Fenris's persona.

* * *

She was infuriating.

And it only made him want her more.

What was worse was that Fenris only had one reason to hate Hawke's guts. She was a mage _freak_. There always had to be another way out besides killing all the damn things. And even better yet, she was fucking their healer mage 'companion', so of course, he was seeding more treacherous bullshit into her pretty little head.

He was surely a masochist. He'd had her before, and he'd run away. It had been years, and he had destroyed the man that was holding him down… physically and mentally. Speaking with her after killing Danarius… he felt as if one day, he could be truly free. _Feel_ truly free.

She'd even stopped him from murdering his sister, which would have truly brought him naught but lingering bitterness. At the time, it had angered him to no end, and he could not speak with her for days. But now, he was truly grateful for her level-headed decision.

She was beautiful; in more ways than the purely physical. Though her style of combat was much different than his, he still appreciated her deadly talent. To strike quickly, and to dodge like a fox. Many would confuse such a thing as cowardice, but he would not for a moment. Hawke knew every vital point, every artery, every niche in an opponent's armor…and it drove him mad with lust.

She also didn't deal with bullshit, yet made time for seemingly needless tasks. Did some seem worthless to him? Of course. But he still admired her after the fact for helping those unable to do so themselves. They were more alike than different, yet their violently opposing views on mages created an impenetrable barrier between them.

Even though she was well aware of his aversion, she still welcomed him with open arms.

"Fenris." She said softly, opening the door to her estate. She looked demure in her finery. He didn't like it.

"Come in." she said, her voice edged with uncertainty, but her smile genuine. They walked inside and started towards her room. The fire crackled merrily in the entrance chamber, all remnant of Bodahn and Sandal packed away for the night. He'd asked her a few nights ago at the Hanged Man if she'd teach him about exploitable weaknesses on the body and in armor. She, of course, always the helper, agreed.

He had a real motive, however.

The two entered her room, and she shut the door behind them. Fenris watched her backside sway as she trotted across the room and hopped up onto the four-poster and sat there cross-legged.

"So, what would you like to know?" she queried, smiling at him. Being in a bedroom alone with her was making it difficult to focus on what she was saying.

"I couldn't be quite sure, really." He said, shrugging a bit.

"Well, we can start with basics on the body itself. Your sword is large, so you don't have to worry about getting in and around armor too much."

Well, there went his mind.

"What should I do?" he asked, unable to contain his grin. She slid from the bed and positioned herself in front of him, facing away. "Just listen." She said chuckling a bit awkwardly, realizing her own innuendo.

She grabbed one of his armor-clad hands, and brought it up to rest on the side of her neck. The cool metal gave her chills, and she shuddered. "I needn't explain the basics about this spot" she began. "There's a major artery that sends blood to the brain. Obviously, a neck wound is grievous. If you're ever in a situation where you're without your weapon, however…enough pressure here will make your enemy pass out."

He grunted in acknowledgement. She took his hand and moved it away, flipping around to face him. His hand was placed high on her chest, in the middle of her collarbone so his fingers touched the base of her neck as well. "Anywhere in a straight line down the chest is a good bet. Aside from obvious organs, several arteries converge here at your palm."

Hawke then took his hand and curled it into a fist, aside from his pointer finger. "Identical arteries start above the collar and go down the length of the arm…" she held his hand and traced it as such, starting from her collar, making a small loop upwards, and then down her arm all the way to her fingertips. He nodded when she finished and looked up at him.

"And finally…my favorite." She moved away from him entirely, and returned to her sitting position on the bed. "Sorry for the ah… show." She said obscurely, and he raised a brow in question.

"The largest artery in the body" she breathed, and pulled her robes up her leg, revealing the milky white skin beneath. His breath caught and he suddenly felt very confined within his armor.

Hawke made a mock cut across her outer thigh. "Jagged cuts are best, so there's no way to suture the wound." She explained. "If you cut here…your enemy will be unconscious in under a minute…and dead in five, tops."

Fenris wasn't listening. His eyes roamed over her exposed thigh, drinking her in. Undressing her with his eyes and imagining what it'd be like to see her and touch her again without that ridiculous robe on.

"…Fenris?"

His eyes, lusty and burning, rose to meet hers. Her lips parted in a small gasp, and he took that as all the invitation he needed.

He was upon her in moments, pressing her back into the sheets. "Fen-mmph!" he cut off her cry with a rough kiss, and bit down harshly into her bottom lip until he tasted copper. Her open palm came into contact with his face, and he backed away grinning.

Her face was flushed a lovely crimson, her breath coming fast. _I could make it faster. _He mused, and watched her predatorily as she sucked on her bleeding lip and he let his armor fall to the floor piece by piece.

"Surely, _serah_ Hawke, there has been even a small part of you that has tired of your mage's constant _blubbering_." Fenris spat the last word with malice. "Surely, after all these years, there is a part of you that is once again tempted, as I am." Fenris exhaled in relief as he removed his greaves, his manhood springing to attention and tenting his pants.

Hawke eyed him calculatingly. Fenris was finally in naught but a light pair of cloth trousers. Having not heard affirmation or complaint, he stepped back onto the bed and remounted her, pushing her legs apart with his knee and pressing his weight against her body deliciously.

"Fuck you" she murmured, half gasp, half growl; but _all_ an addition to his arousal. His mouth found her neck, the same side she'd taught him the weak point. His lips nipped and suckled hard on the flesh, making _sure_ to leave marks all along the porcelain surface.

"Fret not. You will."

Her arms rose tentatively around his sides and clung to his back, her nails digging in when he bit down and applied pressure between her legs at the same time. He growled in her ear, and pulled the cinch to her robe out of its knot. The offending fabric was pushed to the sides with his hands, allowing his attentions at her neck to trail downwards to newly exposed skin.

"Fenris..This is.. wrong…ah!"

He watched her body as it pushed up off the bed in a beautiful arc. His lips suckled greedily on the pert tip of one of her breasts, his hands running up and down her sides and giving equal attention to the breast his mouth wasn't already occupied with.

"I can think of many definitions of the word wrong, but this doesn't fall under one." He purred, pausing his attentions at her chest. His lips hovered a hairs breadth above hers, and as gentle as a feather falling, he touched them to her bottom lip where he'd wounded her.

"He loves me, Fenris…" she whispered, and his mouth turned up into a snarl.

"He loves the idea of you. He loves that you scurry about to his every magical whim and fancy. And surely he loves having you to pet him when he can't control his _demon_."

Hawke averted her gaze. She knew he was right, and didn't fight it. But she was still torn between her own feelings for the mage… and her distaste at the fact that she'd always be second place on his priority list.

Fenris knew that for tonight at least, she was his. Saying no was not one of Hawke's strong points.

He kissed up her neck, smoothly and gently. This side was almost humorously clean in appearance, in stark contrast to the other that he'd claimed earlier. Her hands twisted into his short mane, pulling him in for their first real kiss of the night. Her initiation pleased him, and he hummed lowly into her mouth to tell her so. The kiss soon became frenzied as she finally made her choice.

Her newfound courage made his ego soar. She tugged at the waist of his pants, pulling them down and off his hips as far as she could, their tongues battling for dominance. Swiftly, he stepped out of them and sent the article flying to his armor heap on the floor. He wrapped her thighs around his hips and pressed his pulsing erection flush against her entrance, making her moan and squirm in his grasp, her body curving up into his, seeking more.

His breath ghosted along the shell of her ear, sending heat to her belly. "How do you want it?" he purred, his tone low and husky. For whatever reason, he felt as though he had to prove something. Prove himself above Anders. _The alpha male_. She whimpered as he pressed against her, her entrance hot and slick for him. "Like this?" he asked, rocking his hips gently, teasing her with a sly grin. He then pulled her body onto its side, and lay down behind her, hoisting her leg upwards. He pressed against her from behind, earning a strangled cry. "Perhaps this way?" He could feel his own heart pounding in his ears, his cock throbbing in time with the tempo.

He flipped her over again, this time onto her stomach.

He knelt behind her, pulling her rear end up into the air. She moaned, her hands digging futilely into the sheets. She rubbed her backside along his manhood, earning her a deep growl from Fenris.

"Please, Fenris…" she whimpered. He grinned wickedly, pushing a finger along the length of her slit, which was nearly dripping wet. She gasped and bit down into the sheets to stifle her cries. He could see her face from the side, flushed a gorgeous pink, her eyes half-lidded with need.

He leaned over her as far as he could go without entering her, and toyed with her breasts that dangled and bounced enticingly. He pressed the tip of his erection past her velvety folds, and had to hold her still when she bucked back against him.

"Tell me what you want." He murmured seductively. Hawke wasted no time. She was burning, and only he could save her now.

"Damnit! I want you inside me, NOW!" she hissed. Fenris delivered; he sank into her as far as she could take him, and they both cried out in relieved unison. "Ahh! Yes, like that…!" Hawke gasped and moaned as his hips pumped rhythmically against her, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh seeming to echo throughout the room.

Fenris's nails dug into her hips as he pulled her towards him for each thrust, pressing within her as deep as he could go. Her breasts bounced with each jerk of their bodies, and she was rapidly approaching her peak with every push and pull between them. Fenris growled lowly, squeezing her hips roughly as he too felt his edge nearing at this rapid pace.

Fenris roughly shoved a hand between her legs, finding her sweet spot and rubbing it frantically in time with his thrusts. Her eyes snapped open at the contact. "Fenris!..Uhn...Don't stop..." she whined, her breath coming in ragged pants as he pounded mercilessly into her. She sat up and turned around as much as she could, her hand reaching to caress his jaw and drag her nails along his skin; something, anything…she needed to touch him, to give him some sort of form of intimacy during this non-intimate act.

She was so close…

"Who do you need?" he growled, and immediately she called his name, over and over, her body whole body alight with fire that engulfed her skin and seared her very being. "You, Fenris…you.. you.. –ahh!" Hawke cried out loudly as her walls contracted around him, her climax shaking her to the core. Her whole body was quavering, her toes curling and fingers grasping the sheets for dear life. He could only groan and grip her hips violently as she took him over the edge with her. Their bodies collapsed into a sweaty heap on the bed, both of them panting and trying to regain their breath.

After a few moments, Fenris dislodged himself, and managed to fall to her side so that he was no longer crushing her beneath him. Their breaths fanned hotly into each others' faces, and Fenris watched lazily as Hawke chewed on the skin surrounding her thumbnail out of nervous habit. He pressed his fingertips to the small of her back, causing her to gasp softly and arch involuntarily towards him. He pulled her in this way, enveloping her body with his arms.

"I know it is years late…" Fenris began, his voice soft and dragging in its weariness. He seemed to ponder his thoughts before continuing to speak. "Is Anders returning here tonight?" he asked, his fingers gently running through Hawke's short black hair. She hummed pleasantly, the attention sending tingling sensations to her scalp. "No. He wanted to stay at his clinic a few days to work on a backlog of patients."

This was a lie. He was working in the mage underground, but she refused to incite Fenris's wrath. Not when he held her so close. _So possessively._

Fenris smiled, and pressed his forehead against hers. "Then, if you will allow me…I could stay with you as I should have three years ago. I know it is not the same, and you have every right to send me away. If you wish me to go, you need only sa—"

Hawke cut him off as she pressed her lips to his softly. He reciprocated, the gentle passion of her kiss cutting him deeply. They ended a little lost for breath.

"Yes, Fenris." She said, smiling against his lips and delighting in his warmth. "What do we… do about Anders?" Her eyes were downcast and her tone guilty.

"Don't tell him. Unless you're ready to be done with him, in which case… I will gladly give him numerous erotic details until he decides it befitting to attack me."

Hawke chuckled softly, her fingers tracing lightly along the swirling lyrium lines that twisted elegantly down his chest.

"I hope that…things work out. I'm not sure what that means exactly, but… I hope you can be happy, Fenris." Her voice came tiredly, and she nuzzled against him, her eyes closing as her breath came to her evenly now.

His heart sank painfully into his chest, and his fingers stopped their movement momentarily before continuing through her hair.

He hated her. But there was also this new side, the one that saw but ignored her unwavering acceptance of him throughout the years. She'd taken him, a lost and vengeful slave, and created a free being. Even through his constant anger and hatred of her and her decisions, she'd remained with him through the years, steadfast.

…Why?

His chest tightened, and he was flooded with emotion for the woman drifting to sleep in his arms. Human. Defender of mages. Lover to the extremist healer. He sneered, and kissed the top of her head.

Perhaps soon, the answers to his questions would present themselves. Tonight, however, he would put grievances aside and give her himself, the only thing he had… and the one thing he had denied her three years before.


	2. Shatter

**A/N**: Thanks for the lovely comments you guys left last go-around. I'm always interested in what you have to say, so if you loved it, or thought it was terrible and want to strangle me, speak up! I want to hear it all.

This one's a little more angsty and a little less delicious, so apologies in advance.

**Quick Desc: **Hawke and Anders are forced to face one another.

* * *

Hawke was so consumed with her guilt that she couldn't concentrate. In and out, in and out, the man pressed into her, their bodies meeting again and again in a passionate dance conceived at the dawn of man.

What sickened her most was that her body still wanted him. Every touch sent heat flooding to her core, every delicious contour of their bodies joining made her gasp softly and grasp the sheets. She wanted to pull him close to her, look into his eyes and feel the love that she felt for him years ago. But she couldn't. She was sick inside; sick with guilt and self-hatred, sick with the fact that she did not know this man any longer. Sick that one Tevinter elf's name wanted so desperately to slide from her lips in wanton ecstasy.

Anders groaned as he neared his climax, and reached out to caress Hawke's cheek. She bit her lip as his pace became frenzied, finding that her head turned away from his touch rather than instinctively into it as it had before.

It was too late for him to stop. His brows furrowed in question as he roughly turned her head back to face him, his eyes burning fiery holes straight though her. His fingers gripped her hip roughly as he came, and Hawke could do naught but close her eyes in mortification and unresolved tension. As Anders fell beside her, spent, she still quivered and shook, her body begging for its own release.

As the seconds crept by, the only sounds in the room became the soft crackles of the dying fire and the breaths of the two individuals. Hawke inwardly cringed, expecting a harsh confrontation from Anders about why she had pulled away from him. About why she'd been so distant, so quiet. Her heart pounded in her chest, her nerves pricking at her, telling her to get up and run.

Hawke never ran. She always met challenges head on. But she didn't think she could stand up to his anger if she had to tell him she'd spent the night with Fenris. She didn't know how to handle a crumbling relationship, how to sooth her lover when he wouldn't open up to her. Anders may even be well aware of her relations with the elf; his marks still remained imprinted on her hips and neck, albeit faded.

He moved then, tiredly. She could tell from his body language that he wanted nothing more than to curl up and fall asleep; the dark circles hugging his eyes attested to that fact as well. But he moved his body over hers, supporting his weight on his forearms as he touched his forehead to hers, the position forcing her to look him directly in the eyes. His fingers threaded loosely into her hair, playing with the ends as he let forth a deep sigh. "We need to talk."

Hawke was immediately surged with both immeasurable guilt and anger. She released a defensive scoff, knowing very well that '_talk_' was only going to go as far as _he_ would allow. "About what, Anders?" she said, her tone making the innocuous question sound completely venomous.

His anger likely would have flared up earlier, but his weariness was clearly and overwhelmingly dominant in his narrowed eyes. "We can start simple." He began. His hand rose to caress her cheek as he had done previously. She tensed, her eyes averting from his. "Why do you pull away?"

A thousand answers sat perched and ready on the tip of her tongue. Some truth, some lies; some agonizingly painful to one or the other, or to both of them. Her words were caught in her throat, however, so she remained silent. Her eyes must have portrayed defiance, because Anders's face twisted into an angry snarl.

"Perhaps, then" he growled, grabbing her jaw with one hand and twisting it up and to the side, "it'd be easier to explain _these_."

His eyes roved over her neck, taking in every discolored mark and bite; some of them faded, purple, and bruise-like, some a spattering of red blemishes. Hawke swallowed, the action much more difficult with her head forcibly tipped backward.

_He did notice_. Hawke's chest sank with shame, her eyes drifting shut as Anders released her and moved to sit at the edge of the bed. The expanse of his back seemed to curl forwards and shrink as he covered his face with a palm, his depression visible to her even without looking at him face-to-face.

"I think it's fair to say…that neither of us can trust one another. My…wariness…has stemmed from back when mother was killed." Hawke sat as well, wrapping the sheet around her naked form. "And that wariness has turned into disdain. Have we not aided mages in need? Have we not freed them, told them to run when we could have taken them forcibly back to the circle? And after aiding them, they prove themselves time and time again villains and maleficarum…" Hawke paused as her voice threatened to crack. Anders' back was as rigid as a board.

"And you…" she began, trying to keep her tone as far from accusatory as she could, "With all this suspicion mages are being thrown under, you're running around at all hours of the night, doing things that you can't―no, _won't_ speak to me about. You ask me to blindly aid you in tasks that you refuse to fully explain to me, knowing that I care so deeply for you. You..used me. And have _been_ using me from the start." The words fell from her lips in bitter understanding. Finally, without the immaculate facade of _love_, she could see the depraved reality she had once been easily able to overlook.

Anders was silent for several long moments before his voice finally cut the silence.

"I thought you wanted to aid the mages as well."

"I did! I still do. But the ways in which we decide to aid them matter, Anders. In case you haven't realized, I'm having a crisis of conscience here."

"Ah, I see. I'm sure your crisis of conscience helped you to mutilate the side of your neck there, too."

Hawke's heart clenched.

"I could say I'm sorry, Anders, because I am. But I don't think it'd help you at this point."

Anders sighed, the sound pressing like a vice grip around Hawke's chest. "You would be correct…Damnit, Hawke. I told you I would only break your heart." Anders turned and crawled back across the bed to sit in front of the sullen woman, her eyes glassy and threatening to shatter at a moment's notice. He took her hand in his, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into her palm.

"I want to apologize as well. For all I've done…all I haven't done…for what I haven't told you. And for what may soon come to pass."

His obscurity gained him a look of unabashed resentment. Her hand suddenly felt very uncomfortable in his grasp. "Of what may soon come to pass?"

Anders smiled sadly. "Don't worry, I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. Not because I refuse, but because even I am unsure. I just know that…soon, the dam will break. And I want you to know…I still do, and always will, love you."

His words caused the hot tears to finally spill over her cheeks, but it was a silent display of emotion. Her eyes were vacant pools of desolation; why had she let her walls down? Is this how it would always be, letting someone in? _They would always break you in the end_…?

_I love you_. How did three words contain so much underlying meaning?

_I love you._ How could such a small phrase cause so much pain?

_Liar. _

_You never loved me._

"Get out, Anders."

Hawke's voice wavered as she struggled to keep her face and emotions in check. Anders withdrew and clothed himself without another word, gathering his pack and any of his things that had found a home within her estate. As he stood at the door, he gave her one last sidelong glance before shutting the door behind him.

As soon as the door thudded shut, Hawke's misery broke through, coming from her in agonizing waves as she was forced to curl herself into a ball. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and it was the sound of her own despair that sent her off into a fitful sleep.


End file.
